


sing me to sleep

by SOMNlARl



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Caretaking, Fluff, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Migraines are a side effect of lyrium withdrawal. Dorian helps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing me to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by av-mello on tumblr. Thank you! <3
> 
> Come hang out with me (I love new friends!) or prompt me: [xhermionedanger](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com)

The song pulsed deep inside him, curdling his insides and tangling through his veins until each was on fire. Everything was too loud,  _too much_  and Cullen slammed his book down on the desk with an echoing crash, raising his hands to dig his thumbs into his temples with a groan. 

_Everything_ hurt. 

He’d woken to a nagging ache deep behind his eyes, lashing tendrils of pain spreading through his skull and down his neck, settling into his shoulders. He winced as he moved his hand to rub at a knot at the base of his neck, hissing as the pain flared and dimmed again. 

It would take so very little to be rid of it all and his salvation was so near. Just a few inches away and the box that held his relief could be in his hands. He fingered the drawer of his desk, teasing it open a few inches before slamming it shut again. 

_No_. 

He hadn’t come this far only to give in so easily. What would Cassandra think? More importantly, what would Dorian think? 

He sighed as he leaned back heavily into his chair, forcing himself to take one slow, rhythmic breath after another as each slows his racing heart. 

He started at the feel of a cup pressing into his hand, nearly leaping to his feet in shock. He snapped his eyes open, relaxing at the sight of Dorian perched on the edge of his desk, concerned gaze fixed on him. 

“How long have you been here?” Cullen asked, voice shaky as he took a sip of water, sighing as the cold liquid trickled down his throat. 

“Longer than you might like,” Dorian said as he propped himself up on one hand and laid the back of the other across Cullen’s brow, frowning as he brushed away beads of cold sweat. “Headache?”

Cullen nodded as he leaned into the touch. “All morning. I can’t…”

Dorian shushed him, folding his hands between his own. “May I?”

He nodded again, pressing his cheek against Dorian’s chest. He was  _so warm_  and as Cullen curled further into him the ache in his head lessened. 

Dorian pushed him back upright in his chair and he whimpered at the loss until Dorian’s hands came to rest on his brow and he felt the familiar warmth of fire magic then frost seeping beneath skin, loosening his tensed muscles. It teased at first, trickling lazily across his skin then delving deeper, untangling the knots of pain behind his eyes, in the base of his skull and down into his upper back. 

He groaned in relief as he stretched, joints cracking loudly at the sudden movement after hours of ill use. “Feels so good, Dori…”

Dorian chuckled as he ruffled Cullen’s hair. “Of course it does, Amatus. Do you think you could sleep? Just for an hour or so.”

Cullen nodded as he pulled himself out of his chair, walking towards the ladder up to the loft he’d been assigned as living quarters. The cold winds off the Frostbacks always screamed through and sometimes (more often than not) the roof leaked but it was something and on the nights that Dorian consented to share his bed it felt like home. 

The bed creaked beneath his weight as he curled into the blankets and protested further still as Dorian came to sit on the edge of the mattress, carding a hand through his hair. 

He breathed slowly, one breath and then the next as he willed himself to sleep, his eyes shut tight until he realized he was breathing in time to a song that Dorian was humming softly, nearly under his breath. 

The faint echo of a melody, one that left him soothed but somehow still wistful; it was so familiar but out of reach, it was almost painful, like a nearly-healed bruise he couldn’t stop prodding at, renewing the ache. Just a few notes at first; hesitant, halting. It made him think of his mother, he realized with a sudden burst of nostalgia that twisted deep in the pit of his stomach. He cracked an eye open carefully, burying his face into Dorian’s leg to keep out the afternoon sunlight streaming in through the missing slats of the roof. 

“Where did you learn that?” He asked. “That song.”

“One of the refugees,” Dorian replied, keeping the slow, steady rhythm of his fingers through Cullen’s hair. “From Denerim, I think. She was singing it to her children. It’s rather nice, isn’t it? Thank the Maker for that, it’s been stuck in my head for a fortnight now.” 

“My mother used to sing that song…” he murmured as he lay back onto the pillow, relishing the feel of cool cotton against his skin. “Again? Please?”

Dorian leaned down to nose at his cheek before they kissed. 

“For you, Amatus?  _Anything_.”

Cullen fell asleep to the weight of Dorian behind him and arms across his chest, the same sweet melody hummed softly into the back of his neck. 

For the first time in weeks sleep, when it came, was dreamless. 


End file.
